


epitaxy

by pomme (manta)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Brief Tendou Satori, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, References to Other Series, Reincarnation, Temporary Character Death, there is a lot of plant talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manta/pseuds/pomme
Summary: In worlds, and in the world between worlds, Aone searches.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pretense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/gifts).



> my hq rarepairs 2017 gift for hopaiskalos! 
> 
> i ran with your requests for aone/hinata, reincarnation, and magic. thanks for being so flexible with your prompts, and hope you like!
> 
> \--
> 
> general notes:
> 
> \- there are references to other series, but you don't need to be familiar with them to understand what's going on!  
> \- seeing as this is a reincarnation fic, there will be temporary deaths. most of them will be implied or alluded to.

 

 

**AONE TAKANOBU**

**Maximum Height  
**

196 cm

**Features**

This sturdy, evergreen plant grows toward the light. It generally keeps its leaves curled as if pointing at the sun, though it has an uncanny sense of when to unfurl them shortly before rainy weather. Its strong willpower prevents it from wilting in unfavorably extreme conditions, but may lose heart at pinpricks of trouble like frosty mornings and aphids. A good shelter for small animals and a wonderful addition to any garden.

**Location**

Prefers rich, moist soil in light shade.

**Soil and Care  
**

Pulverize soil and amend with compost. Top beds with compost and keep moist. Leaves should be removed only when brown or obscured by new leaves. Do not cultivate.

**Blooms**

Flowers are a full green color that is indistinguishable from the plant itself. Will bloom in any season, but is partial to summer.

**Water**

Water three times a week. Plant will visibly straighten when sufficiently watered.

**Maturity**

Reaches full maturation at 22 years of age, evident from broad, fully extended leaves and thick stem. Hardy but pliant. Tends to shed leaves on occasion and will not regrow them. Total lifespan depends on quality of care and rate of leaf loss.

**Attached Items**

Volleyball, Volleyball Jersey, Framed Portrait, White Teddy Bear

_**For more in-depth information, refer to:** _

_**Lives. Blooms., by Ushijima Wakatoshi** _

_**The Encyclopedia of Rein-carnations and Other Plants, by Sugawara Koushi** _

 

* * *

 

Stumbling into his dorm room, collapsing onto his bed, and sinking into a sleep that turns dark, dreamless, and permanent at 02:10 a.m was not the way Aone Takanobu expected to go.

For all his brawn and the terror he inspired in volleyball opponents and subway perverts alike, he went out with a sigh.

Most don't consider the possibility of leaving so unexpectedly. Then again, most don't expect to fall a long, endless way, and reawaken in a world of searing light, either.

Bleary-eyed, Aone squints to make sense of his surroundings. He shifts, but immediately stops trying to move, on account of the most profound exhaustion and pain shooting through his entire body, exceeding even those he's felt from his most trying practice. His hands curl into the dark green comforter draped over him.

"Hm. You're up."

He's being watched. Aone concentrates to make out the man's face. Short, dark hair. Observant black eyes. A stern, stoic mouth.

"Here."

And the man hands over a large, white teddy bear, propped on the nightstand next to Aone's bed. Perhaps it's a bit juvenile, a university student seeking refuge from a stuffed animal, but the ache is almost intolerable. If Aone was the type to verbalize his emotions, he would have been screaming.

"Drink this, too. You'll feel better." The man gives Aone a cup that reflects back minute flecks in the sun.

Unsmiling though the man is, he seems serious. Not the crafty sort to pull the wool over one's eyes.

So Aone downs the sour liquid in one long draught. He winces at the taste, but sure enough, when the drink's burned a lazy path from his mouth down to his stomach, he can't recall feeling exhausted or pained in the first place.

The man observes him carefully throughout. "Everything seems in order. Another one, then."

And Aone thinks he means another drink, until the man reaches for the nightstand, upon which rests an assortment of other items, including a volleyball and a framed portrait of a young man with hair like wildfire. The man _pulls_ at something that, somehow, also yanks at Aone's chest, and—

 

* * *

 

Aone's second life ends even more quickly than his first, though it concludes in a rather more heroic fashion.

Quick as Aone is, he can't entirely compensate for the broadness of his frame. He doesn't have to, or shouldn't have to; it depends on how one looks at the situation or, perhaps, how one looks at the world.

"What happened?" Aone asks, after he wakes and, still in pain, finishes the drink the man hands to him. He doesn't like to speak, on account of people gawking first at his height and then at how his voice booms, but the man answers without missing a beat.

"A killing curse. You died in the plains, sacrificing yourself for your party as they sought to defeat the Grand King."

"Was I a warrior?" Aone doesn't much like this idea, let alone of battle. Especially when it's what people expect him to do, upon assessing him based on his physical features.

"In name only, but you preferred to heal. You became a legend, anyhow. The most prosperous city's library, rebuilt after the Grand King's defeat, bears a plaque dedicated to your memory."

Aone ponders this. Using his own body as a shield doesn't seem at all heroic to him. Reckless, sure, and rather cruel to the person he was protecting, but Aone was just doing what he meant to. "My memory would rather dedicate itself to an owlery."

Whether the man can tell Aone is only half-serious, he doesn't show it. "The dead might be able to choose how they die, but not how they're remembered."

 

* * *

 

This time, Aone wakes to minimal pain, drinks from the cup on his own, and only needs to look up from his bed to find the universe is bigger than he's ever known.

His bed is only one of many, organized neatly in long rows with different odds and ends on each nightstand. Light, brilliant but not intrusive, streams in seemingly from the open sky, until Aone looks closer; a roof sits atop the transparent walls, but is so clean it appears not to exist. There's endless light, but endless life, too—a trail of green, from the matching bedsheets to the generous number of plants, leads to the door and beyond, where still more crops populate the fields.

The man enters so quietly, Aone would have missed him if he hadn't already been looking at the transparent double doors. He pauses at the entryway to remove his boots and gloves, ties on an apron (green, of course); he approaches, hands clean but still smelling of earth, and Aone knows: the man is the resident gardener.

Aone hesitates to speak, but recalls the man's encouraging reaction at his voice and asks. "Where am I?"

"In between."

Elsewhere, the man's answer would be unsatisfactory. But here, in this greenhouse where the heat isn't sweltering and the infinite beds are neatly made, it makes perfect sense. Aone likes the simplicity, but he doesn't like that he and the man remain strangers. So he says, "I'm Aone Takanobu."

The man is examining the plant, bright green in its pot beside Aone's bed. "Ushijima Wakatoshi."

"Ushijima-san—"

"Ushijima is fine."

"Does everyone stop here?"

"Not everyone. Just those who have reason to." Ushijima ensures the drinking cup is empty, and pours a watering can's contents into Aone's pot. The plant straightens at the same time Aone's spine warms with a tingle. "I keep things ready for people who need them."

Anyone else would have fired a dozen questions at Ushijima, demanding answers. Aone knows he himself is brimming with curiosity, but it's never been his style to say too much all at once. He's found that often, if he waits patiently enough, most things reveal themselves in time.

"You'll need to leave soon," Ushijima says. "A few more minutes of rest is enough. This time, you'll do it yourself." He mimes tugging something away from the plant, and Aone properly examines it now. Nestled among the many in the greenhouse, the plant would be easily forgotten, if not for the fact it sits on _his_ table.

"I pull off a leaf and go somewhere?"

"Somewhere that's not in between. Yes." Ushijima answers without hurry and without concern. He waits for any more of Aone's questions, in a firm enough way that differentiates his patience as stemming not from consideration, but duty.

So Aone says, "This time. I remember I stood still for a long time and wasn't tired."

"You were a wall made entirely of iron, serving and protecting the townspeople within for many years. They loved you, as did the crow who sent messages for them and made a home within your bastions. You, and a series of other walls, were seen as impenetrable."

"And then?"

"As all seemingly impenetrable things work, you fell to invaders. To other souls, that imbued themselves in battering rams and trebuchets."

 _What of the crow_? But Aone knows what became of the crow, what became of them all. He reaches, and, hand hovering over the plant, asks, "The world I'm going to next. Will it kill me as well?"

"They all eventually do. It depends on when, and how."

"If I pull off a flower," Aone says, testing the waters, "will that also kill me?"

"Pull as many leaves off your plant as you like, but my work ensures the flowers bloom. Breaking one off its stem," and Aone didn't know a watering can, poised in Ushijima's hands, could look so menacing, "ensures your immediate death, right here, right now."

 

* * *

 

To Aone Takanobu, memory has become a concept similar to medication.

Possess enough of it, and events recur as sharply in his mind as if they were happening right at that instant. Possess too little of it, and he's dangling on a precipice, almost about to pull himself up before falling off the edge. Possess too much of it, and it becomes poison: a murky, slow spread through his every organ until it becomes him and he recalls nothing at all.

He never knows which option will manifest until he finishes the last sip of the drink. This time, it is the first, and his past life replays like a narrative he knows the summary of, but not the ending.

Aone is bowing. Mundane enough, but context matters, and his is out of respect, out of reverence, out of allegiance.

As he straightens, he catches the glint of Hinata's blade as they face one another. Aone doesn't know how he knows the boy's name—he simply knows, the way one knows rain and sun.

Tears shine at the corners of Hinata's eyes. But he lets them fall, his face set, eyes wide and pupils dilated, poised in the way he is when he channels his being to exist for a sole purpose. Aone didn't expect anything less, and Hinata's expression tells Aone that Hinata feels the same way.

(If Aone had stopped to ask himself how he knew this so well, he would have recalled bows upon bows upon bows, like endless selves in a mirror maze, and somewhere in there, an embrace.)

A final unspoken declaration of affection, shared in their grim smiles as one says to the other, "If only," as they accept the consequences of what their families have left to them— years of a civil war that has only picked up traction, an inheritance they didn't ask for. Aone would cry, if he was a crier. He is not, but Hinata is, and so Hinata will have to cry for the both of them.

They are loyal to one another, but there are too many competing loyalties that overshadow an aspect as easily shattered as love.

Hinata takes the first step forward, and options, unbidden but drilled into the mind as a result of relentless military training, flip through Aone's mind. He could charge, parry like this, deflect like that. Or, in defiance of everything he is, drop his blade, beg Hinata to do the same, run as far as they can and enjoy a precious few more days before everything catches up to them.

But the outcome is the same. And so it doesn't matter, _it doesn't matter_ —

"Do people watch the whole way through?"

Ushijima looks up at the sound, but remains kneeling even at the sight of Aone, standing in the dirt lane as tall as the highest reaching sunflowers framing either side of him, the sun above them both. All around them, plants whisper in the breeze, perhaps merely from the wind, or perhaps from tales of their own lives Aone will never know.

"You don't?" Ushijima's expression is carefully neutral.

Aone pauses, wondering if he'll be looked down upon for being honest. But he won't shy away from the truth, and so he steels himself, not holding back. "I can't bear it."

Ushijima surveys him, inscrutable, then nods. "I'd say it's about fifty-fifty, and not from the ones you expect. Some people cry. Some get angry." He turns back to his work, creating a freshly dug hole for a new seed. "Some ask what the point is. Like it's so important to know why."

 

* * *

 

Datekou's first practice match under new leadership soundly loses its first series of practice matches with a decisive two games to nil.

But that's all right. The team is green, in more than one way. They have time to ingrain into their bodies the divide between theory and the actual movement of limbs.

"Line up!" is barely out of Futakuchi's mouth when Aone charges up to the net, all springs and residual energy.

"That was such a great game!" he booms, shaking the orange-haired boy's hand along with the rest of him. "I didn't know what to expect with you as middle blocker, but boy, what a surprise! Your spike is awesome, did you know? It's like lightspeed! Like quicksilver! Like _phwoo_ and _pow_!" It doesn't take much for Aone's voice to carry, but it easily reverberates through the gym now, drawing the attention of Karasuno's club members. His teammates, accustomed to his constant outbursts, continue rolling up the nets.

The boy nods but remains silent, his expression wide-eyed but unafraid, and Aone persists. "I'm Aone! Second year, vice captain, middle blocker. What's your name?"

"Hinata," is all the boy says. Quietly, but his voice echoes nonetheless.

 

\---

 

After Aone's most recent excursion, he finally arrives on time.

"Prompt for once," is Ushijima's remark, after Aone downs the drink and his head stops swimming enough to sit up. "Did something seem off?"

"Yes."

Aone doesn't ache anymore, and his memories are more often clear than not, but he holds on to the white bear anyway. It was the first time he had consciously sensed something amiss, and couldn't merely settle into a world that was _wrong_ , where his voice drowned out Hinata's, where he couldn't feel the warmth spill out of Hinata in the inevitable way a toddler spills a cup of juice.

 _So leave_ , said a voice that was and wasn't Aone's, and Aone did exactly that.

Ushijima's seated next to Aone's bed per usual, pruning the plant three nightstands down from Aone's. "You caught on quick. I thought you would fight to the end, in that world."

Aone considers this, then how each life, to him, isn't about molding the worlds in his favor, but settling into its essence. "Not about fighting," he says.

Ushijima's eyes widen. He opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by a singsong voice that floats in through the open doors.

"Yoo-hoo! You home, Wakatoshi-kun?" A moment later, a spiky-haired man pokes his head in, as shocked looking in appearance as Ushijima is somber and covered in a similar layer of earth.

"You," Ushijima says, by way of greeting.

"Me!" the gardener agrees. "With a gift—strawberries!"

Despite Ushijima's seemingly apathetic reception, he accepts the overflowing box without protest. "You could always tell when it was harvesting time."

"Which means it's time for you to get a move on!" the gardener answers, and turns to Aone. "Hi, I'm Tendou! Caretaker of the next field over, and Wakatoshi-kun's neighbor!"

Aone inclines his head, while politely refusing the box's contents. Tendou is dangerously cheerful and the strawberries are tempting, but Aone knows he's better off taking less from this world when he'll soon be off to the next.

"You can walk around now, right?" Tendou asks, and when Aone nods, crows with delight. "Come over whenever! I want everyone to see my beautiful hydrangeas!"

"He can see beautiful hydrangeas right where he is," Ushijima says, rather stiffly, and Tendou slaps him on the back.

"Of course he can. There's enough beautiful hydrangeas to go around, Wakatoshi-kun!" And then, to Aone, "Really, stop by whenever! Who knows who'll be around? Maybe you'll meet someone like you."

 

* * *

 

The sky is a stone grey, the shade that indicates when the season is about to tip into full winter.

His classmates and teammates complain, but Aone doesn't mind the bitterness. Wrapped in a warm coat, he easily endures the freezing commute to his university. The drab backdrop makes the crowd's colorful outfits all the more cheerful, and Aone likes to make a game of what memorable accessories he can spot. He starts with Futakuchi's brown bear hat, complete with ears and a triad of pompoms and a gift from Aone himself, to the junior high student's Rilakkuma scarf, to the model's blood red cape lined with faux fur trim.

He's just parted ways with Futakuchi (who, for all his snarky comments, wears the bear hat every day), when Aone notices the orange-haired boy in front of him is wearing a pair similar to the earmuffs clamped over his own ears: white, soft, and egregiously fluffy.

Perhaps identical pairs, even, purchased from the same casual wear store after a day of desserts and pet store visits, and seeking warmth with hands clasped around cups of hot cocoa.

"Hinata," Aone says, before he can stop himself.

Next should come the affirmation: recognition dawning on Hinata's face, his mouth opening wide, youthful in his wild joy, as the wind of the incoming train roars in Aone's ears in an exalted whisper and he takes a step forward.

 _you found him, you found him, you found him_ —

But Hinata only blinks, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Who are you?"

Chest tight, Aone can't find the words to answer. For once, his succinctness fails him.

Hinata waits a moment longer, then pulls his coat tighter around himself and, with one last uncomfortable glance back, maneuvers to the other end of the platform.

His blank stare haunts Aone, long after the platform blurs into nothing. Long after Aone emerges and breathes in the crisp, night air like the antidote to a madness he isn't sure he ever had.

 

\---

 

"It was a good world," Aone concedes.

"It matched your current age, too." Ushijima dips an eyedropper into a dew deposit on Aone's plant. "But still, too far."

Aone watches, mesmerized, as Ushijima transfers the eyedropper's contents into a metal contraption. Aone's strength has grown, to the point he can take himself past the sea of crops into the heart of the land.

Despite Ushijima's devotion to each and every plant, his predilections reveal themselves here in his atrium: chairs and a bed of deep purple fabric, shelves of meticulously cared for orchids, a keen-eyed eagle that spends most of its time outdoors, and even a cow, contentedly munching in a corner.

"I'm checking on your plant," Ushijima explains, answering Aone's confused frown. "The dew is an indicator of its condition."

Once a meter on the metal contraption is fully charged, the dewdrop is redeposited, preserved in glass, and slid onto a lit platform. Ushijima positions an enormous lens over the drop, magnifying it many times over. He moves aside, silently inviting Aone to take a look.

For a moment, the lens only displays water and a few air bubbles. Then, the slide's contents burst into life before Aone's eyes.

The scene is a great forest, with barely visible specks moving within it. The lens zooms in on its own, and the largest speck reveals itself to be a white-haired man, picking his way with great care through the dense brush. Glowing beings, floating in midair and of defined and amorphous shapes alike, follow him. Even from this distance, the man's resting expression of seemingly immense displeasure is apparent, and Aone recognizes himself.

He turns away, burying his head in his sleeve.

"It's your memory," Ushijima says, matter-of-factly.

"I don't remember this." Aone keeps his face covered. "It's not right to look."

"Do you want to know what happens?"

Aone doesn't refuse, but he doesn't move, either. Torn, he can feel Ushijima watching him, and when he doesn't budge, Ushijima taps his arm. "I'll keep it short."

Aone finally nods, head still curled in the nook of his arm. Ushijima begins to speak, and with nothing but his clear, even voice to focus on, the happenings sound, to Aone, like a story happening to someone else, like he's comfortably removed from the tale.

"The glowing beings are classified as something older than human existence. Because they followed you and too many of them resulted in catastrophe for nearby humans, you had no choice but to wander. Still, you chose to help humans in need, while having compassion for beings that plagued them. Then, you met him."

Aone opens his eyes. But within the safety of his arm, he still sees nothing.

"He showed you the world with new eyes. Appreciation for noise, companionship, yourself. Then—" Ushijima falters, but catches himself so smoothly Aone wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been paying attention, "—he was gone, and so were you. The beings were malicious, but also unpredictable, and safety is more guaranteed when a person fends only for himself."

Aone lifts his head, slowly so the light filters in, bit by bit and not in a storm of blinding white, and looks around the atrium.

Beyond the atrium, crops are lined in neat rows in every direction. Ushijima is still examining dewdrops with his unusual microscope. He leans closer at times and further away at others; he remarks about his observations, but he doesn't seem to mind if Aone is listening or not.

Next to Aone's glass slide is a bin that is marked with his name. He peers in, and it is appears empty until he realizes it's filled with decomposing leaves, his own from previous lives, being composted to fuel someone else's future. Only two leaves on the top are not tar black, with one noticeably greener than the other.

Aone drops back to the sturdy oak desk, and leans into the crook of his elbow again.

"Hm. A weed," Ushijima says, somewhere above him, "sprouting from the concrete."

But Aone just wants to rest, at least for now. "I want to nap before I leave again."

Silence.

"All right," Ushijima finally says.

Aone is about to succumb to exhaustion, but just before he drifts off, Ushijima speaks again.

"But not for too long. Remember, you have someone to meet. You must find Hinata Shouyou."

 

* * *

 

Aone supposes one would tire of it all after a while—the endless introductions, never knowing how the person he sought would react to him.

But he plods on, in his sturdy way. "The strong, silent type," is how his mother would introduce him. "The intense, tunnel visioned, unexpectedly fond of baby animals type," is how his teammates in many a world would describe him. Neither of them are wrong.

Both of them seem worlds away. In this case, they are.

Ushijima's words prove an unusual anchor over the timeline of the next series of worlds, until Aone begins to think _too far_ is, in fact, as good as things would get.

The dewdrops tell of more tragedies—missed meetings, slow and steady downward spirals, both literal and figurative trainwrecks that Aone is thankful his memories haven't retained.

But he is not entirely spared of all of them.

Upon stepping off an elevator, Aone finds he's as immaculately dressed as the extremely polite elevator operator. He takes in the bar ahead, with its dark wooden paneling and luminous blue backlight, and his heart leaps: Hinata's seated, waiting, grinning, handsome in his suit, gesturing to him. They're never met this quickly, or remembered each other from the start.

"Welcome to the Stale Mate. What can I get you?" The bartender's smile is warm and rehearsed, her long dark hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

Aone shakes his head, preferring instead to take the raised seat next to Hinata's. He links their hands and Hinata smiles down at their interlocked fingers before replying.

"Nothing for me. I have a volleyball match tomorrow!"

The bartender's icy blue eyes widen at their casual touch. "You know each other?"

"We're childhood friends! Met when he found me climbing on his roof," Hinata says, and Aone gives his hand a squeeze.

"Hm. All right." The bartender's expression smooths over, though her hands keep a rather tight grip on the tabletop. "About that match...you may have more time to kill than you think. How about a quick game while we wait?"

Aone eyes the bartender, and the spotless surroundings that lack the character of anything remotely used. All pristine to within an inch of their lives, sanitized waiting. It's all very impersonal. Professional.

He frowns.

"No, thank you."

"Ah. Well," says the bartender, smile as sympathetic and practiced as ever, "the choice is yours, but I do have to let the both of you know that you'll die if you don't participate."

" _Die_?" Hinata's exclaiming, with good reason. But Aone's assessing the gaps he missed in between the glowing blue lights and flawless interior design. The list of recommended drinks on the wall, some of which include "The Obituary" and "Death in the Afternoon". The two elevators off to the side, with Noh masks over neither of the doors in which he arrived. The bartender's skull choker and her sinister collection of enormous axes mounted on the walls.

They have already passed on, and Aone doesn't care to stay to find out more.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asks. "We have an assortment of—"

"No."

 

\---

 

"That was fast," says Ushijima. Aone had arrived to find him seated, head bent as he sewed a dark green comforter, and Aone felt a peculiar rush of relief at the sight of him. "To some people, proper reincarnation would have been satisfactory."

"For me, it wasn't." Though experiencing different worlds, Aone knows what he wants—a world of everything and everyone that matters to him. A vibrancy derived from different sources, all emitting their own colors.

Ushijima pauses. "Others redo things over and over until they get exactly what they want. They don't succeed."

"I want it all." Elusive Hinata, friends, family, Aone's volleyball teammates, a sun with rays that can both heal and hurt, soft rabbits he can cradle in his arms and press to his face. A ferocious longing replaces the relief, and it wells up within Aone, strong and sure—to see more, know more, be more. To head out again, into waiting worlds.

Ushijima finally gives Aone his full attention, voice sharp like the needle in his hand. "You won't get a perfect world, Aone."

"So be it." Aone knows as he says the words that they are true. "I don't need perfection. I need what's good enough."

 

* * *

 

"I promised to visit Tendou-san," Aone says the next time he arrives. He just finished a world fraught with treasure, treachery, and peril on the high waters; as a seasick-prone person who preferred his feet on firm ground and a lack of bloodthirsty sword fighting, it's not a universe Aone wants to recall, but he wouldn't say no to seeing Hinata in knee-high boots again.

Ushijima's fitting all the beds with fresh green sheets. The blankets are hung on great long clotheslines, billowing in the breeze, and he leans around one to scrutinize Aone. "Do you feel well enough?"

"Yes." Aone would be off to another world, if not for the sudden onset of dizzy spells that kept him bedridden for longer than he liked. He leans over his plant to stroke a leaf, and can't help breaking into a rueful smile. This might well be the only trip outside of Ushijima's plot that he'll ever make.

"Hm. Well, I'll keep an eye out from here." Ushijima shifts a bunch of pillows to one hand to point at the box of peaches on the table. "Bring those; they're delicious. And Tendou's not the only one with crops worthy to share with others."

And that's how Aone finds himself straddling the path between the fields, dividing where he's been and where he hasn't.

On the other side, a blonde something makes a noise and takes off into the yellow perennials. Curiosity, finally, is what compels Aone to walk into The Next Field Over. Even in this world, flowers don't squeak.

He finds the blonde something in the vast field, standing very straight with a bloom in front of their face, as if hoping he would mistake them for another flower.

He tugs the flower down.

"Yeek!"

The blonde something—no, a someone—backs away.

Aone bows in apology.

"N—no! No, it's fine!" The girl dashes forward to wave away his apology. "Sorry I got scared and ran away. I was just surprised, that's all. I'm usually here by myself, so to find someone else here is...well!" She peers at his face. "I think I know you. Do I?"

"You might," Aone says unhelpfully, though that's as definitive as he can be, and the girl nods in turn.

"Right! That's exactly how I feel! Sometimes I remember perfectly, and sometimes I don't remember _anything_. It's so frustrating!" The girl's leading Aone through the maze of flowers all the while. "Maybe names will help? I'm Yachi!"

"Aone." He tries to match the girl's peppy tone, though his low voice doesn't really have the means to do so.

Yachi pulls up short, and Aone almost walks into her. "Hmm...that's vaguely familiar. Maybe we have someone in common!"

"I'm looking for Hinata Shouyou."

Yachi's eyes light up, and for a moment, Aone wonders if she, too, is looking for the same person.

"That _does_ sound familiar!" Yachi muses. "Not the person I'm looking for, but surely someone I knew well." She closes her eyes and screws up her face; concerned, Aone's about to ask what's wrong, but Yachi looks at him again, shaking her head. "I thought that'd help me remember, but no luck! I wonder if our people are out there looking for us, too."

In that moment, Yachi's brought up a question Aone was afraid to ask, of Ushijima and of himself. He's about to ask her what she means, when a fresh wave of lightheadedness almost sends him toppling into the dirt.

"Are you okay?" Yachi cries.

He nods, but she takes the box of peaches from his hands. "I'll help you carry these. They're for Tendou-san, right? He's not here right now, but you could use some rest and the greenhouse is up ahead. Just a bit further!"

She makes a valiant effort to support him, but Aone's concern about crushing her under his weight lurches him onward. Finally the greenhouse comes into view, the beds as yellow as Ushijima's are green. Yachi helps Aone into a chair just outside the door.

"Some water? Some of these delicious peaches? Some sleep?" she frets, twisting her hands.

"I want to talk," Aone says, catching his breath. He can have the things Yachi mentioned in due time; companionship is what he's been lacking here, and what he wants now.

Yachi blinks. "A—are you sure? I don't know if I can help you. Tendou-san tends to go out for the whole day, so it might be better to wait until he comes back."

"I want to talk to _you_."

"Oh. _Oh_." Yachi grins sheepishly. "Well, I wanted to talk to you too! I haven't met anyone else here, other than Tendou-san and Ushijima-san. It's a bit lonely."

Lonely doesn't begin to describe it, Aone thinks. Despite the endless rows of beds, each visitor spends so little time in the greenhouse that chances of encountering anyone else are low. He's always joyful to reunite with his loved ones in various worlds, but having to keep this awareness to himself has proved, at the best of times, a nuisance, and at the worst, almost unbearable.

"So!" Yachi settles on the bench next to his chair. "What do you like about him? Hinata Shouyou."

Aone has to take a moment to answer. He's spent so much time living his goal of meeting Hinata, that he's out of practice talking _about_ Hinata. "He's brave. Blinding. Kind. And he never gives up." Hinata's infectious too, a hurricane made of restless energy, resilience, endless conversation, and full-bellied laughter.

It's only when Yachi beams at him that Aone realizes he's been smiling. Hastily, he props his head on one hand to hide at least one burning cheek.

"Oh, no! Don't be embarrassed, please!" Yachi says at once. "He sounds like a wonderful person. Mine is, too. But I've always wondered if our precious people are searching for us like we're searching for them. It's something I've thought about a lot. I bet everyone who's passed by has. I've decided," and her fists clench in her lap, "that I don't need to know if I'm being looked for."

"Why?"

"Because we don't know for sure, so why ask? All we can think about is what _we_ can do. And what we can do is look, with everything we have." She pauses to take a breath. "What do you think?"

Aone considers this. "Yes. But it's still lonely."

"Definitely! It really is! Which is why I'm so glad we met each other," Yachi agrees. "Maybe we're just spokes in a wheel. We move things along and can't see the road ahead. But we are here to find the people important to us! So we should take whatever help is given to us, even if help includes being lonely sometimes."

"A second chance," Aone adds.

"Exactly. Not everyone gets a second chance, or a third, or more!" Yachi turns to him. "So we gotta make the most of what we have. We'll find them!"

Forgetting himself and his propensity to scare people with his intensity, Aone nods fiercely. But Yachi is nodding back just as fiercely.

"We _will_!" she says, brown eyes shining.

Their conversation is interrupted by something blinking from the direction of Ushijima's field. When it flashes again, Aone realizes it is the light refracted from an enormous lens.

"I have to go," he says, rising to his feet.

"I'll accompany you!" Yachi gets up as well. "Are you sure you're well enough to walk back?"

"I'm much better." The dizzy spell has passed as quickly as it came. "You don't need to come all the way."

"Then I'll see you to at least the middle path," Yachi insists, and Aone finds himself grateful for her company, as well as a a pang of sadness that they would most likely not meet each other again after they both depart for their next lives.

Aone rarely remembers his dreams. But that night, he does, and envisions a dewdrop's worth of memories which will be debated by gardeners for decades to come:

Hinata's covered in blankets, his breathing labored, soaked towels beside him not to cool a fevered forehead, but to catch his sweat and tears, all to be wrung out in a pail. The glowing being that has made its home within Hinata is a creature of the desert; it wills his body to rid itself of all moisture, which will eventually cost him his life.

Aone has exhausted his resources for a cure—poring over his stock of ingredients, writing to those in his line of work, asking his trusted collector friend whose replies often came with as much snark as they did with actual advice.

There isn't one.

To see Hinata, previously all fire and passion and reduced to brittle ash, is torture.

Aone sits at his bedside, head bowed.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I failed."

"You didn't," Hinata rasps. "Stop saying that. It's not your fault."

"If I had saved the remedy—"

"If nothing. It was me or that girl. And I chose to give it to her."

"I don't want to lose you again." The last word slips out of Aone's mouth before he realizes his mistake.

Oblivious as Hinata can be, he's too perceptive of Aone's tendencies to miss something so significant. "Again?"

"Uh." Aone racks his brains. "I meant—"

But Hinata seizes his hand in a vice grip.

"Well, I'm looking, too." Hinata's skin has turned waxy, its pallor an unnatural grey. But his eyes remain a pair of brilliant sparks, flaring in the dark for the last time. "And I'll find you. I promise."

 

* * *

 

"I can't move."

Ushijima looks back to where Aone is still in bed, frowning at his own lack of mobility. "Any pain?"

"No. I'm just numb. And slow." When Aone tries raising a limb, nothing happens.

"Stay still. Don't strain yourself too much." Ushijima leans over to tuck Aone and his stuffed bear in.

"My time's up, isn't it?" Aone asks. When Ushijima says nothing, he presses on. "One leaf. I saw."

Ushijima doesn't deny the cause, instead busying himself at the sink. "Most experience a loss of movement near the end."

The end. Aone had always knew it was coming, but it seemed worlds away in this dazzling space. He's more reassured, having Ushijima here. But also— "Yachi," he says.

Ushijima doesn't bat an eye. "I'll tell Tendou to send her. It may take a while."

Yachi arrives, out of breath and clutching an enormous box of carrots Tendou insisted she bring. Ushijima stands up and offers her his seat. "It's your last one, too?" is her first question to Aone, sinking into the chair. "Your last leaf?"

"It's yours?" he counters.

"That's why I was visiting Tendou-san's flower fields yesterday." Yachi's small ponytail droops a little as she sighs. "I wanted to enjoy them while I could. Apparently, I'm one of the rare ones who can still move at this point."

"You could have done the same thing, Aone," Ushijima remarks. "Under my care, the lavenders and tulips have grown particularly well this season. "

Ushijima could have mentioned that, along with the fact people lost strength as they lost their leaves. Aone responds with his best glower.

But Ushijima is utterly unfazed. "I have to say," he continues, "I rarely come across pairs as stubborn as you two."

"Pairs?" Aone is puzzled for a moment. Then, "Hinata and me?"

" _A weed, sprouting from the concrete_ ," Ushijima repeats the words, and Aone recalls when they were first said, to orchids and a cow and dewdrops examined in huge lenses.

"The weed was Hinata."

"And you were the concrete." Ushijima returns to Aone's bedside to better examine the plant. "That you met each other in such close proximity, in every world, means you're both trying to reach the other."

Aone Takanobu is tall, strong, at peak physical fitness. Almost immortal, even, a demigod, a chaser and chooser of entire worlds.

And yet he is helpless, too—all that strength cowed by his own hand in the form of a plant, rendering him incapacitated, and Aone is glad Ushijima's placed the stuffed bear close enough to brush his cheek. "I have one more chance."

"Yes."

"What should be different?"

"Not about fighting," Ushijima echoes Aone's words back to him, lips twitching like he's holding back a smile.

"Then what _is_ it about?" asks Yachi, who's been listening intently all the while.

"Different for each person." Ushijima finishes examining Aone's plant, and begins to place the items on the nightstand back into the drawers. "Sometimes, it's letting go. Or holding on. Or staying still. Or standing your ground."

"Tendou-san told me," Yachi says in a small voice, "that when you lose your last leaf, you also stop existing in this world. You forget everything."

Aone closes his eyes, exhales. Then he opens them again.

"Then I should look at what I can see from here, while I still can."

He didn't notice before, but dusk has settled for the first time upon this world. The rows of beds, usually swathed in full green sheets, have turned shades of black from the setting sun. Odd, jagged shadows on the floor come from Ushijima's apron and tools, which hang neatly near the greenhouse entrance, and Aone realizes Ushijima didn't touch them at all today; he means to say a proper farewell.

Yachi takes Aone's unfeeling hand. To her credit, she manages not to sob, as she looks at him with red eyes and an occasional sniff.

"It was wonderful to meet you," she says, blinking back tears. "Even when we both forget, my heart will remember you."

"Don't stop searching," he reminds her. "One leaf is still one chance."

"Of course!" Even now, she manages a wide smile, and Aone tries to carve every detail of it into his mind. "Wouldn't it be nice if we end up in the same world?"

"I'd like that."

She's crying in earnest now. Aone turns to the other person at his bedside, a man both filled with mystery and none at all, a steadfast gardener, a ready presence.

"Ushijima."

Ushijima's gaze is steady. "Yes?"

"This is beautiful. Thank you." **  
**

Aone means it. The situations of all the travellers who seek this lush way station do not change. But here, among tangible reminders of life, and Ushijima's steady hand to push them forward, people are less afraid to try. Less afraid of what might be.

Ushijima nods. "I'm doing what I'm meant to."

"If you could choose a world..." Aone lets himself trail off, not daring to finish a question he's wanted to ask for a long time.

Ushijima's eyes grow brighter. "Somewhere I can continue, just like this."

Aone looks up, at the roof that depicts a sky that's more night than day now, the now visible stars hinting at other worlds. He then takes in the gentle glow of the lamp next to his bed that illuminates his plant and the one leaf on it, and finally, _finally_ , he takes in Yachi and Ushijima, both watching him in silence, and he wonders if they're as determined to take as much of him in as he is of them.

"It's time." Ushijima positions the pot so that the one leaf is within the grasp of Aone's right hand. "You'll find your index finger and thumb can, conveniently, move just enough to pluck off a leaf."

With a teary laugh, Yachi lets go of Aone's other hand.

Eventually, eventually...no matter what this final world is like, he will find who he is looking for. With enough time, things tend to sort themselves out. Aone has always believed that.

"Well. Hinata is waiting."

And concentrating all of his strength in merely two fingers, Aone pulls, and falls.

 

* * *

 

Aone starts his first day of summer break with a run.

When he finally slows down to a jog, and then a walk, he checks his phone and finds he's made good time. The sun's already out and beginning its slow ascent, the sky is clear without a cloud in sight, and a little girl even waved hello to him as he sped by. His university volleyball team is solid; he has a good rapport with some of them already, given they were high school teammates. All in all, things are looking up.

The corner bakery with the delicious macarons is approaching. Aone considers stopping by; he's in the mood for sweets, and there's a candy store nearby that sells the gummies Futakuchi likes—so sour that they leave Koganegawa pursing his lips like he kissed a lemon.

And then something plows into Aone, almost sending him face first into an electricity pole.

"Sorry! Sorry!" The guy positively flings his bike aside and prostrates himself on the ground. "I didn't mean to! Really! I was just! Had a really good practice, and I was thinking about this really cool move we learned today and got distracted—" He looks up, notes Aone's even taller from his kneeling position, and gulps. "Please don't eat me!"

Aone notes the shoes and ball in the bike basket.

"You play volleyball," he says.

"Y—Yeah!" The guy's face is a tad less terrified now, in his daring to hope that no one will be eaten today. "You too?"

"Yes."

"I was going to the bakery! They're having a sale for their new stuff." The volleyball player sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "I wanted to make it as soon as the doors opened, 'cause I promised my sister I'd get her a custard bun."

"I'm going there, too," Aone says.

"Yeah? I'll treat you, to make up for what happened!"

"Thank you."

"Let's go!"

Now the volleyball player knows he's in the clear, he grins with renewed excitement. His smile is wide, uninhibited, and Aone decides he likes it.

 

\---

 

His name is Hinata Shouyou.

He's not counted as one of the taller middle blockers on his team, or anywhere, but he faces giants head-on. Besides, as Aone knows all too well, strength doesn't always manifest in height and power.

He introduces himself with gusto, in a _you'll remember my name_ fashion, and at this a wave of fondness overtakes Aone, like the feeling has existed within his bones for years.

When their order is filled, they find their conversation isn't finished. Munching on melonpan, they head to a nearby park to continue talking. Or rather, Hinata speaks at a rapidfire speed, gesturing with his hands, while Aone is content to listen as the wind rustles through the trees, and children call to each other on the playground.

They both love dogs, both love sunshine, and are both rising stars on their respective school teams with miles to go. They swap numbers, with promises to see each other at nationals.

Soon enough, the day turns to night. It is only when they're about to part at the subway station that Hinata realizes he accidentally ate the custard bun he promised his sister, triggering a frantic search for a last-minute gift that might serve as a suitable substitute. It ends when Aone finds the claw machines, one of which has a little Totoro that Hinata's sister will love.

Aone's about to go to sleep that night, when his phone lights up. He tucks himself in, along with a newly won stuffed white teddy that only took three attempts to win.

 _today was great!!! thanks for dinner!!_ Hinata's message includes a happy crow sticker.

 _thanks for the macarons and bear_ , Aone answers, and that is the beginning.

 

\---

 

Aone Takanobu believes in ghosts. And not necessarily the pale-faced, malicious sort that lurk around dark corners, either; he prefers to believe in the ones that tiptoe behind and beside, existing all along and waiting to be seen.

An odd thought, to surface on a sweltering Sunday that evaporates most other thoughts. Nonetheless it rises, unprompted, as Aone and Hinata pass the new flower shop across the street from Hinata's favorite katsudon shop. They've been together for almost three months now—a busy and hectic three months, but all the missing makes uneventful days like these worth all the more.

A stern looking man, who had been kneeling in front of the lavenders, stands to hand Hinata and Aone a sunflower each. "For you."

"Uh, we're not interested in buying," Hinata says. He eyes the man, gauges their size difference, and hastily backs behind Aone.

The man is undeterred. "Consider them gifts."

The man pauses to dust off his green apron and checks his nametag: _Ushijima_. For a moment, Aone sees something familiar in those sharp black eyes, better suited for the crisp suits and talk of a boardroom, and so unexpectedly at home among the vivid blooms. But the man has already turned back to his flowers, content to ignore Aone and Hinata as if they had never passed by.

Suspicious, Hinata opens his mouth to argue. But Aone steers him away by the shoulder and, placated, Hinata shrugs and shouts, "Thanks, mister!" before reaching for Aone's hand.

"I forgot to tell you, I made a friend at the tutoring center!" Hinata says, as they continue walking towards the nearby shopping district. "Remember the last tutor threw a fit when I panicked and forgot how to do basic addition? But Yachi, she's so patient and taught me integrals! She made me promise I'd go back to see her if I needed any more help."

"Good," Aone says, ruffling his hair. "Proud of you."

Hinata's chest puffs up with pride. "Maybe _I_ can teach _you_!"

Aone grins. "We'll see."

"How about tonight?" Hinata asks, moving closer.

Aone notes Hinata's cheeks, reddened from the heat, the contrast further heightened by sunflower yellow petals clashing with his bright orange hair, and Aone can't help but lean down to kiss him.

"Yes," Aone says, his hand lingering on Hinata's cheek, not yet ready to pull away. "Tonight sounds good."

 

**Author's Note:**

> more notes:
> 
> \- who yachi's looking for is open to interpretation.  
> \- hinata's version of events is, most likely, both very different and very similar.  
> \- i went with ushijima and yachi for secondary characters because ushijima shares a birthday with aone, and yachi seems like she'd get along with aone (after getting over her terror of him xD)
> 
> special thanks to mandy the bestestest bean, whose encouragement and advice have been invaluable, and lark, who opened her messages for all my stressed yelling.


End file.
